


first steps in the right direction

by ameriboo



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Beach Town, F/M, Friendship, Mention of Friend Group, Piercings, Romance, Slice of Life, Teen Romance, Teenagers, a little story in which gary is pining and misty is wild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 11:20:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19886752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ameriboo/pseuds/ameriboo
Summary: Gary woke up one morning to a call from Misty telling him that they were going to spend their day getting something pierced. This is that moment.





	first steps in the right direction

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: i do not own anything but the au.

> **tell her that she is both your teenage dream and future reality.**

Gary lifts his head from under his jersey sheets, groggily glaring at the brightness of his smartphone and its ringing. A shaky, saturated photo of Misty sticking her tongue out surfaced and the name 'ginger' crossed the screen, followed by a mermaid emoji."

He was the one who captured the moment. The gang got a hold of a couple of beers, some ciders and a bottle of Honey Jack for the night and took the scene under the stars. They all met at the marina. May, Iris and Dawn dancing barefoot on the dock, their sundresses swishing. Ash, trying to roll a blunt in his lap, bobbing his head to Clemont's indie movie playlist as Serena sat close to her crush, her bluebell eyes glossy with adoration while Clemont watched her that same longing. Drew stood at his side, giving him knowing looks as Gary held his phone camera on Misty's back. She sat on the edge of the marina, her legs kicking over the flowing water. Paul was next to her, smoking a Camel Crush as she looked all peaceful, admiring the way the night kissed water with its dim lights.

Gary took a flash photo and instantly, Misty looked over her shoulder, sticking her tongue out at him before taking a swig of her beer. He felt like the hazy, film-like photo captured her likeness. That wild, playful side of Misty. It replaced her old seventh-grade yearbook picture he had as her contact photo, despite how he fondly remembered how she famously sported a purple scrunchie, her freckles almost as bright as those braces. Years have taken them, yet at seventeen, he still had little shame when it came to her.

Which is why he doesn't wait for a second more to pick up her call.

"…Hey."

"Are you free right now?" She asks from the other side, the faint sound of her music playing from what he is guessing is her pastel yellow Crosley record player. It sounds like the beginning of Billie Holiday's _I Can't Believe You're In Love With Me_.

"For you? Always." He sits up in his bed, alert and topless.

" _Come get something pierced with me."_

"Do I get to pick what I get pierced?" Gary asks, yawning and rubbing the crusts from his eyes.

" _Nipples, obviously,"_ she replies with zero hesitation.

"Got it," he says with slight amusement. "need a ride?"

" _Please and thank you."_

"I'll text you when I'm close," he tells her, pulling himself out of bed. "I need a minute to get ready."

" _Peace."_

Gary rushes to the bathroom. Contacts on, teeth brushed, face washed and moisturized. He groans as he combs his wild hair in that angle he likes, keeping it from falling in front of his face.

He pats his cheeks for a wake-me-up. Gary puts on black chinos, a long sleeve shirt white shirt, a light bomber, and a newer pair of Doc Martens. Grabbing his keys, phone, and wallet, he heads out.

. . .

Pulling up and parking his inherited crimson 1990 Corvette outside of Misty's place, he sends her a text and a quick warning honk from the driveway.

(11:30) I'm outside

_(11:31) coming now_

She comes down towards him looking like a wavy dream. Dripping in color with her denim high waisted shorts, a pair of maroon high-top Vans, and a tie-dye crop top—a mix of mustard yellow, cobalt, and green. Cool tones.

Misty slides into the passenger seat, dropping her worn ochre Kanken backpack at her feet.

"Good morning," she says to him, tapping her cherry-colored nails against her cellphone before automatically grabbing Gary's weird tape-slash-aux cord and plugging it into her phone. He recognizes it as her wavy lo-fi chill beats playlist and doesn't fight against it.

"Good morning, sunshine. What's up?"

She leans comfortably into the seat, watching Gary as he circled his way out of the neighborhood. "Got into bed at like five in the morning after sneaking into the YMCA to go swimming last night. The girls and I got McDonald's at like three, so it was pretty fun but you're making me feel awful right now."

Gary raises his eyebrow. "What did I do?"

Misty looks personally offended. "You look so put together and _nice_. Making me look like lazy Venice Beach trash."

Colorful in style and with words. Despite the sprinkle of self-deprecation, Gary finds himself pleased with how she noticed the effort he took to look good.

"Come on," Gary chuckles, stopping at a red light. "I like that you look like an employee of the month at Trader Joe's."

She lets out an audible gasp.

"I'm so conflicted," Misty says honestly, mouth agape. "I don't know whether to be flattered or disgusted by that comment."

"You like their cookie butter," he states.

Misty wears an expression of bliss. "If I could, I'd inject their cookie butter into my veins," she says with a hum.

"Whole Foods is better, man. More options."

For a second time, Misty sourly looks at him as if he told her he was going to skin puppies for fun. "Yikes, you're bougie."

"Oh yeah, liking imported cheese makes me bougie. Sorry for being cultured."

"Spending fifteen dollars on imported brie doesn't equate being cultured, Gary."

"Remind me never to share my lunch with you again," he teases.

"No! I firmly take back all my past criticisms," Misty tells him, lips almost forming into a pout.

"Thought so. Anyway, are we going to Tracey's shop in downtown?"

"Yeah, I texted him to write us in the book for an appointment with Roxie."

Gary's scrunches his thick brows in slight confusion. "So last minute?"

"Benefits of family," she points out. "But we're also going to have to get him a cold brew on the way sooooo wanna go through the California Coffee drive-through?"

His attention leaves the road to give Misty that knowing look that she never takes seriously.

"My treat," Misty promises, wearing a cheeky grin. "Please."

"Hm…."

"Come on," she eggs on. "You always like what I order."

The spiced cinnamon mixed with deep espresso really got to him. As did that edge of sweetness that tinted her voice when she asked something of him. The bat of those lashes. Her remembering the small moments of them sharing drinks or spending time together. It did things to his heart.

_Dammit_ , _she's totally right_ , he curses to himself, making a U-turn to head towards the intersection that California Coffee is located. Within a couple of minutes, a bright blue and yellow sign flashed as he pulled into a drive-through. The line is short enough that before the song playing ended, they were at the window.

Greeted by a smiling dark-haired teenager, Gary was about to ask Misty what she wanted then suddenly felt her close. He eyes her curiously as her body leans over him, placing her one hand on his thigh and the other on the back of his leather seat. The scent of her coconut and sea salt shampoo tickling his nose. His ears growing warm.

"Hey there! Can we get a nitro cold brew with brown sugar and two iced dirty chai lattes with coconut milk please?" Misty asks clearly, clueless to how Gary's clammy hand tightened around the steering wheel.

"Sure thing! That'll be $14.55."

Misty reaches even farther, leaning over to hand her card over to the chipper girl. She slides back into the passenger seat. Gary releases the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and eases himself. He swallows that lump bobbing in his throat—a little nervous, a little relieved, but mostly a little disappointed that her hand was now nowhere near him.

"I could've ordered and paid, Misty," he tells her, not quite looking at her. Trying to act as nonchalantly as possible.

"Ah, don't worry about it," she replies, waving him off. "Thank you for stopping. I totally wasn't trying to be annoying."

"You annoying? Never. But thanks for the latte."

Before Misty could say anything, the barista was back with three drinks in a cardboard cup holder. "Enjoy!"

"Thank you!" The two teenagers politely shout.

"Oh, hell yes," Misty says, shaking with happiness as Gary was handed the drinks. She takes the cup holder from Gary and holds them in her lap, handing over his iced latte. Driving out of the drive-through, he makes a left turn heading in the direction of Tracey's shop. Gary doesn't remember the exact shop spot, but he would recognize the large white neon sign _SKETCH_ anywhere.

Gary and Misty both take a sip out of their iced dirty chai lattes. The milky sugar melted in his mouth as the refreshing froth of the drink cold him down. He understood why Misty was wearing such a dreamy expression after each sip. He had to give it to her—she had good taste in caffeine and sweets.

"It's good, right?" She asks, dripping with an overly pleased tone. A tone that showed that she already knew that he loved it.

"…..It's okay." He eagerly takes another sip. It was damn delicious. He usually got iced coffees and teas from California Coffee.

Misty hums knowingly. "'Just _okay_ ', he says" she playfully mocks. He maintains his attention on finding a parking space as the SKETCH name flashed a couple of feet away, not trying to stare at how the straw was touching her bottom lip.

Gary parallel parks a block down from the shop. Before they could get out of the car, Misty's phone starts playing the fourth Naruto theme song starts from the speaker and Gary immediately recognizes whose calling.

"It's Ash," she unplugs her phone from the aux cord, looking up at Gary as she exited the car with her backpack on her back. "Go on ahead, I'll be there in a second."

Gary hesitates (and hopes she doesn't notice his hesitation) before closing and locking the car. "Ah—okay," he tells her. "See you inside."

He turns away and walks down the sidewalk, not trying to listen to their conversation or think about the bubbly way she said, Ash. There was no reason to feel upset, but he couldn't help feeling a little ticked off that it was specifically _Ash_ calling.

Their friendship wasn't a foreign concept to Gary. Ash and Misty were practically tied at the hip since they first met when they were all ten. There was kicking and screaming but Gary watched throughout the years how they morphed from playground enemies to frenemies to "ride or die" level of friendship.

It wasn't like Gary was _envious_ of Ash or what he had with Misty. It was more than he hoped that maybe she could say his name with that much happiness tinted on her tongue.

Gary furrows his eyebrows as he took a large sip of his drink. Walking through the parlor doors, a bell chimes and he automatically finds a familiar bandana-headed man in the corner of the room.

Waving to the receptionist who gives him the nod to go on, Gary walks over to Tracey Sketchit working on a young woman's ankles. He peeks and sees two kitten portraits on each ankle. They both wore bowties and were in front of pastel frames. The cat's outlines are crisp and ready to be filled in with color.

Tracey's work was impressive overall, and Gary was always taken aback by how realistic his animal designs were.

The artist looks up from his client's ankles, giving Gary a quick nod before pulling his mask down. Tracey supportively smiles at the young woman, gently wiping off excess blood with a tissue. "You want a break, champ?"

The young woman weakly nods, taking a sip of whatever and wiping the tear from the corner of her eyes.

"Okay, I'll be right back," Tracey tells her, throwing his gloves in the trash. "Please let me know if you need anything."

Tracey walks away from the chair and dabs Gary up, his monochromatic sleeves bare and visible to Gary. Images of vintage floral and fauna splattered both of his arms. Gary and Tracey shared a love for nature and animals so he always admired Tracey's tattoos. Once he decided what he wanted, Gary had plans to go to Tracey for his own ink.

There was another piece that Misty has told him about before. A bundle of daisies placed on Tracey's chest—right above his heart. It was for his wife and Misty's eldest sister, Daisy.

"Yo, young Oak," Tracey greets him. "How are you?"

"Chilling," Gary replies coolly. "How's work?"

"Same old, same old," the artist replies, rubbing the back of his neck as he cranes it to the side. "I just keep on getting this headache that comes and goes…."

The door opens in rapid-fire as Misty comes skipping through, a Cheshire-cat like grin spreads across her face as she finds Tracey.

"Helloooo."

"Ah," Tracey groans, "there it is again."

Gary practically chokes on his drink once he realizes _who_ the headache ways.

"My brother," Misty sings, holding out Tracey's cold brew. "For you, from your favorite person in the entire world."

"Misty, you barely rank top ten." Tracey takes it, ignoring Misty's fake pained pout on her face.

Tracey takes a sip. "Brown sugar?"

She nods, leaning against one of the black leather couches.

"Thank you but you're still on thin ice," he tells her with a half-smile.

Gary points his drink at her. "…What did you do?"

"Nothing!"

"Nothing? Um, try almost causing a divorce."

"Hey! In my defense, you should've told her."

"HAH! You have no idea what marriage is like."

Gary looks back and forth between them. "Someone please tell me," he asks, his mind going towards the worst situation.

"It's too much to even discuss," Tracey replies.

Misty scoffs, swirling her straw to mix her drink. "Try watching like three episodes of Game of Thrones ahead of Daisy even though they promised each other to watch it together."

"….Dude."

Tracey groans into his hand. "It's _good_ , okay?"

"It's not that good, Trace," Misty says.

"It's good enough that your sister hasn't spoken to me for hours," he reminds her.

"She's been out on a photoshoot like four hours away! She'll be fine."

Tracey looks towards Gary, his dark eyes peering into him with complete seriousness. "The Williams girls will be the death of me."

Gary knew that sentiment well. He wasn't sure if he felt it as deeply as Tracey, husband of a literal model and actress did.

He's known Misty for years and in so many ways. As that opinionated girl in fourth grade carrying around books about sharks and jellyfish and mangroves. As that mature girl in fifth who confronted him for saying insensitive about Ash's absent father. As that competitive girl in sixth grade who would pressure him to teach her how to skateboard, even if she just fell on her behind every time. As that sensitive girl in seventh grade who danced with him after his date, Giselle ditched him to go to a high school party. As that passionate girl in eighth grade who held long debates with him about the environment and politics on school field trips. As that caring girl in ninth grade who rubbed his back after he drank too much Fireball at their first underground party. As that jaded girl in tenth grade who swallowed her tears after her parents intentionally made their excuses to not go to her state swim tournament. As that spitfire of a girl in eleventh grade that would drag him out of a bed to go get something pierced.

As true as Tracey's statement was, Gary hopes that death by heartbreak wouldn't happen right away. He hopes for a slow burn involving him, Misty and a road of potential.

She rolls her eyes at the silliness of her brother-in-law. "Trace, loosen the bandana a little I'm afraid it's causing minor damage to your senses," Misty teases, pointing to his head.

"Does she bully you this much, Gary?" the artists questions him, playing with his black and white headband.

"Meh," he says with a shrug, his face in a twist. "Depends on how much I deserved it at the moment."

"Which is often," she interjects, peering sideways at him. "Whatever, you guys suck."

She cranes her neck to the side, eyes lighting up as she spots someone in the corner of the room to the right. Immediately, Misty slips her arm through Gary's elbow and drags him away from Tracey. "Look, it's Roxie!"

Gary looks back for a second at Tracey, barely catching a glimpse at the knowing smile on his face as the tattoo artist slips back to work.

A pixie-like young woman stands cleaning a pair piercing pliers between gloved fingers. She has stark white hair up in a twisted ponytail. Freckles and piercing blue eyes; wearing a black studded choker that matched the metal all over her face that Gary couldn't even name them all. Her stripped black and blue jumper hung off her shoulders and made her look easily fifteen years old.

But Gary knew her as Roxie, twenty-three-year-old piercer and lead guitarist of an underground shoegaze band that Paul often listened to. Tracey hired her as soon as he opened the shop. She was behind May's impromptu belly button piercing she is still hiding from her father. She also did Zoey's septum piercing as a gift from Dawn for their anniversary. Gary wasn't sure which one because they had like twenty-seven different ones.

Now she was about to stick something in Misty and him and he still wasn't quite sure what where it was going to be. He knew Misty was only semi-joking about the nipple piercings, but he could never be sure with her.

"Yooooooo," Roxie bellows, putting down the metal instrument. "Mistyyyyy, honeyyy, what is up?"

Misty flashes her teeth, visibly excited. "Roxie, hey. It's been a minute."

Roxie naturally goes towards the side of Misty's face, pushing back the lock of ginger hear behind her ear to get a look at the latest one. "How is the cartilage healing? It's healthy-looking."

Several silver hoops and studs on Misty's ears in a crescent shape.

"Thanks! I've been using a _lot_ of saline."

Roxie's toothy grin spreads across her face. "So, I'm guessing you're here for something new."

The redhead nods. "Yeah, Gary and I."

"You too, preppy?" Roxie asks him, eyeing him up and down like he was a different species.

Feeling slightly judged, Gary stuffs his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, looking for something to match my Doc Martens," he replies sarcastically, waving his eyebrows at Roxie.

The punk lets out a short laugh. "Hah! Those look brand new. Break them in a little bit more you go around posing."

Gary's smile drops as he goes in for another sip of his sweet latte.

"Why don't we fill out your paperwork really quick before anything," Roxie tells the two teenagers. "Then we can get you into the chairs."

After a moment of Gary and Misty rummaging to get their IDs and signing whatever white slips needed, Roxie started to pull out her equipment. All sharp and silver.

She turns to Misty, throwing away her old gloves for a pair of fresh ones. "Ready, doll?"

Misty grins in excitement, throwing her backpack and handing her drink to Gary as she crawls onto Roxie's chair.

Gary's stomach lurches as Roxie pulls out a black sharpie and sharp, fresh needle from a surgical wrapper.

"That's pointy," he remarks stupidly. "You—you don't use a gun or something?"

"I can use a gun if Misty wants a giant lopsided hole in her nose."

Misty shakes her head, leaning forward enough for Roxie to first clean the spot with a swab before marking her freckled nose with the pen. "Um, no thanks."

Roxie's eyes sparkle over her work. "Oh, this is going to look so _good_ on you! Now—hold still."

Misty bites her bottom lip in excitement as Roxie counts down numbers then sends the sterilized needle with jewelry attached through the cartilage of her nose in a quick swipe. Gary's stomach drops at how easily Misty takes the needle, barely flinching at the pain. Misty's eyes water just a little bit in response, taking in a low breath as Roxie adjusted the tiny opal nose stud.

"Misty, you're always a champ," the piercer tells her, handing over a mirror. "It looks so freaking good. Wait till that heals for about a couple months before sticking in a hoop or something else in there."

Gary focuses on the way the corner of Misty's eyes wrinkle as an excited smile takes over her face. Sparkles practically fall from her eyes as she taps the opal of her fresh piercing, wincing at herself for playing with the rawness of it. "Ouch," she whimpers into the mirror, still sporting a joyful expression. "It is so cute, Roxie. Thank you."

Roxie beams at her craftsmanship. Gary stares, his mouth going slightly dry at how _of course_ Misty would look good with a nostril piercing. He then notices a ring of blood around the gem and quickly reaches over to the closest box of tissues by the counter.

"Misty," Gary blurts out her name full of concern, placing the tissues into her hand. "Your nose is bleeding."

She blinks up at him. "It happens sometimes," she says, taking the tissues with a small smile. "Thanks."

Gary feels slightly embarrassed at his reaction. "…Of course."

Roxie whistles in his direction, giving him knowing eyes. "You ready?"

Misty swings her herself off the seat, standing to the side as a clear sign that it's his turn under the needle.

Gary thinks of the little ring of blood and his stomach turns to knots. "Uh, yeah," his voice quivers slightly, climbing into the warm seat. "Let's do this."

Smiling like a demon, Misty's long lashes fluttered at him. "Please tell me—"

"No nipple piercings."

"Be more adventurous, Oak," Misty replies breezily.

"Leave my nipples alone, red." He grumbled and placed his hands over his chest defensively.

"Wimp," she guffaws, taking a stand next to his seat as Roxie prepared a new set of gloves.

The piercer peers closely to the edge of Gary's face. "I know what we're gonna do," Roxie grins toothily, tapping at his flushed ears. "Let's just give him a single hoop—right here."

"It'll look good?" He asked with a grunt at the end.

"Absolutely," Roxie confirms with a nod.

Gary whirls his head around to Misty. "…You think so?"

"Gary, C'mon," the redhead gripes. "I hate to admit it but almost _everything_ works for you."

It's her smile—that _smile_ —so familiar, and reassuring, and _pretty,_ and it makes Gary do crazy things. Crazy things like pretending not to be a poor fool with heart eyes, crazy things like listening to her. Him hanging off the corner of her strawberry-balm covered mouth with sweaty palms and all the trust in the world.

He recollects even the beginning of them knowing each other, when they weren't even friends and she would stick her tongue out at him for being crude, and how even then—he trusted her. He barely even liked her, but the respect was there. She made him feel complexities before he even learned how to spell the word.

"Alright, let's do this shit," the brunette rasps. "Be gentle."

Roxie pulls out the alcohol swab to clean his earlobe. Gary slightly flinches at the iciness of the touch, already on edge. She doesn't mock his stiff body language as she marks his ear. His attention perks up at the sound of Roxie unwrapping the individually packaged, sterilized needle.

The needle, hollow and sharp, is in his line of vision and the uneasiness begins to settle in his facial expression.

As Roxie settles the needle right above the marked spot, Gary's clenched fists are opened by a soft, calming touch. Misty squeezes his hand with all her support as he tightens his fingers around her palm. Roxie's countdown commences as he bites down hard on his bottom lip.

"Oh shit," comes Gary's low drawl as Roxie tightens her hold on his ear lobe to settle the thick needle against his barely numb cartilage.

His heartbeat quickens as Misty gently flexes her thumb on top of his skin in a soothing circular motion. The sense of her babying him sends his gut into embarrassing turmoil until the needle finds its way through his ear lobe. The initial pierce brings on a sharp pain that stays on his sensitive skin and then all previous waves of embarrassment are lost. A frightened yelp escapes his throat and he was thirteen the last time his voice ever sounded that high. His nerve tightens while his sweaty palm grip Misty's hand, teeth clenched as he tries to breathe properly through his nose. Gary feels a pulsating pain circling his ear as Roxie swiftly slides a silver hoop through the fresh hole of irritated pink. "It's okay, Gary," the piercer tells him, clicking the earring in place. "I'll be over in a second."

His watery eyes are shut until he feels Misty's hands leave his, feeling stray tears fall. Eyes wide open, Gary watches as Roxie throws the equipment to the side and her gloves in the trash. "All done—" Roxie speaks casually, pointing to the bottle of saline solution. "You use that while I go use the restroom. Holler if you need anything."

Gary and Misty give her a quick thanks as Roxie escapes to the back.

It's over but the pain resides. He feels something wet drip down his ear lobe, down the side of his jaw and panic ensues.

"—Bleeding," he shrinks in his seat, hand trying to find some part of Misty to hold for a sense of security. "Why is it bleeding?"

His other hand goes to touch the throbbing ear, causing him to wince in pain and earn a light nudge from Misty. "Don't touch, silly," she warns, grabbing her own set of tissues and cotton swabs from the counter. Misty adds the saline solution to the cotton swabs and leans down to him, her sea glass eyes searching the side of his face.

"What are you doing?" He asks, slightly panicked.

"Shhh—" she shushes him in a gentle tone. "Give me a second."

Soft wetness touches his ear but he doesn't recoil away from her action. Gary finds his breath again as Misty cleans the remaining blood for him.

The embarrassment courses throughout his body once the realization hits that he acted the way he did, almost as sharp as the needle. The sudden urge to bolt out of SKETCH is watered down by her hand on his neck—holding his head in place. Suddenly, Gary is thirteen again and it's like the first time his hand-sculpted her waist during their first dance. Blood rushes across Gary's flushed face, an expression mixed with positive and negative emotions, as Misty's scent of sea salt and coconut trails up his nostrils once more, teasing him. The blush deepens scarlet as her fingers tickle against his skin—causing his neural circuits and wires to spark something dangerous.

He has no words to say but can't help but internally scream _close, close, close._

The intimacy of it all is a little much for him as he catches a glimpse of Misty's lips frightening close and he swears that there is a glint in her eyes he can't read but it makes his stomach drop anyway.

The juvenile part of his mind and body that he hasn't sweated out of his system yet is deciding on Gary's plan for death until Misty pulls away casually as if she didn't just bring him onto the brink of spontaneous human combustion.

"See," his _just-a-friend_ coyly begins, "I told you it would look good." It took Misty holding something up for Gary to distract him long enough to not give any attention to her compliment.

In the raised mirror, Gary looks at his slightly horrified, scarlet reflection and fights back an incoming groan because Misty was right.

It does look freaking good.

. . .

After quick instructions from Roxie about the proper use of the saline solution and the what-not-to-dos about a fresh piercing, the teenagers paid at the discounted price but not without leaving a proper tip for the job.

On their way out, Tracey waves them off and tells Misty to be home in time for dinner and the weekly in—house movie he was going to prepare. Misty quickly tells her brother-in-law that'll she will text if anything pops up and to not wait up as she walks out the door before listening to his response.

They walk to the car.

"So, you want to go get food near the boardwalk?" Misty breaks the silence and asks, waiting for Gary to catch up to her as she stretches her arms in the air. "We can just leave the car parked here and walk over—it's like barely ten minutes."

Downtown was clustered enough that the shops, like SKETCH, and little mom and pop restaurants were near the boardwalk and the seaside. The ocean waves and scent hitting Gary's senses the longer he stood outside.

If his fluttering insides weren't preoccupied over what happened with the blood and the touching, he would have been feeding his ego a bit with the way Misty intended to keep their hang going on.

"Uh, yeah," Gary agrees with a flat look instead of his usual level of enthusiasm. "I'm down."

"…Cool," she responds somewhat wary, her opal jewelry adding a glint to the sight of her. "In the mood for pizza or sushi?"

"Sushi, I guess," he replies, clearing the lump in his throat.

"Pizza it is then!"

Swerving towards the direction of the boardwalk, Misty leads him down the sidewalk full of passersby. Walking side by side in a weird silence, all of Gary's coherent thoughts centering on an opal, a hoop, and an embarrassing reaction. He tries to keep a stoic face on, providing only mild responses whenever the redhead spoke to him.

Gary barely offers a laugh when Misty recalls about the time last week that Ash, in a far-off daze, babysat the bong for nine minutes before Iris snuck up and gave him the _wettest_ wet willy. Misty swears Ash jumped five feet in the air but all Gary could do is an attempt at an awkward grin.

Usually, the idea of Ash getting hilariously called out for babysitting the bong mid smoke circle would bring Gary over the moon. He can tell that Misty is noticing. The way she scrunches her eyebrows at him, a suspicious glint in her eyes.

Before she could say anything, they spot the hole in the wall pizza joint right in front of them, playing the role of Gary's savior and haven. Misty's attention shifts and she passes the Mauro's Pizza door.

Hundreds of one-dollar bills, some wrinkled and some with drawings, plastered throughout the walls of the pizza place. There is no seating—only the ovens towards the back and the greasy high school working the counter. For forever, Mauro's was that late-night cash-only joint by the beach that sold the coldest cherry coke and a slice as big as your face. Their friends have spent many seaside nights with a box of Mauro's pizza.

Misty already knows what to order because neither them or their friends get anything by original cheese pizza. The cashier flexes his braces at Misty who rolls her eyes as she takes the cash out of her tiny Hershel wallet. Gary carefully puts his hand over hers and places a bill directly into the cashier's sweaty palm.

She looks like she wants to say something, but she just shakes her head with a light smile, dropping her wallet into her backpack. Within minutes, their order was placed in front of them on thin paper plates. Two large cheese pizzas and a bundle of napkins. Usually, Gary would be salivating, but his mouth felt as dry as cotton. He wasn't even very hungry.

Misty was beaming as they exited Mauro's and went down towards the boardwalk, a light wind picking up. The golden hour was approaching, and the cerulean sky was beginning to be speckled by mauves and tangerine.

Gary holds onto the flimsy paper plate as they ate as they walked, the ocean and boardwalk in view. Misty munches as Gary barely eats three bites before she looks at his plate.

"Were you serious about not wanting pizza?" She questioned, as she holds up her crust in hand. "Because that means I'm a total jerk and we should've got sushi."

Gary smiles weakly at her concerned expression. "I'm just full from the lattes earlier, don't worry."

Misty purses her lips, eyes full of doubt and hot on his skin. "Okay…." she says, not taking it any farther. She throws the grease-spotted plate in the garbage bin on the corner of the street. He does the same.

Gary is aware of the slight tension between the two of them. Gary's silence staggering and Misty's tact sharp. Taking a deep breath, he concentrates on settling the pool of uneasiness circling his stomach and trying to forget how clammy his skin felt when he saw splatters of his blood.

"Let's go walk on the boardwalk," he hears Misty say, and Gary manages a curt nod despite his apparent disorientation.

She grabs the edge of his sleeve and pulls him forward to cross the street. He lets her pull, watching how she softly glows like illuminated waves breaking the shore.

. . .

His boots made a dull, heavy sound as he walks on the wooden panels of the boardwalk. Made from white pillars and steel wires built years before their birth, with the ocean air tickling everyone's senses. Light bulbs hanging on discolored ropes all around them. The usual fisherman and their children hooking their lines. Some young lovers, some displaying physical affection as others barely brush shoulders.

He isn't new to the boardwalk, but this area was Misty's domain. Early mornings of Cilan and Misty forcing their friends to fish at the ass crack of dawn. Walking the boardwalk and people watching, sometimes with shaved ice and other times with vanilla soft serve.

Humiliating moments of Gary trying not to stare at how cherry-red her tongue got after shaved ice or how she blissfully moaned while licking her vanilla cone. Drew knocking his elbow into his side to break his attention. Gary whispering at Drew to quit it as his blood rises to his cheeks because he knows.

_He knows._

Gary fidgets when he realizes how far along she went, practically skipping across the boardwalk with her backpack in her hand. Misty, arms open and eyes shut, breathing in the salty air. She twirls around, rusty orange hair loose from its ponytail and she's so pretty that Gary aches.

Aches over her. Aches over how they finally spend time together and he goes ahead and ruins it with panic. It makes Gary want to swallow his words and get rid of his ego.

"This weather," Misty begins with a loud voice, "is the _best_."

A gentle breeze blowing her hair around. Gary's throat tightens.

"Uh, yeah," he responds, putting his hands in his pockets as he walks towards the end where she stood.

He leans his body against the rail, watching the crashing waters with the instinct to jump in. Gary's focus breaks at the loud thump of Misty's backpack hitting the wood. Looking up at her, she takes the space beside him. The tiny opal stone reflecting something

"How's your ear?" Misty asks, her arms leaning against the rail. He tilts his head to the side, watching how the golden light of the sky brightens the turquoise color of her eyes. Reminding him like the sea glass he used to collect alongside Ash when they were younger.

A bittersweet taste in his mouth surfaced. A mix of grease and cinnamon.

Gary sputters, forcing a smirk to spread across his face. A dull pain pumping around his piercing. "It's okay."

"You're lying." She accused, brows furrowed.

He glances over her and all the air went out of his lungs in a rapid breath.

"—Why would I lie?"

Her expression softens. "There is no reason to hide anything, Gary. We all handle stuff differently."

Gary blinks physically stunned by her insight. To be fair, his facial expression or lack of words wasn't proper facades.

He lets out an awkward chuckle.

"Red, you sure have an eye," he breathes out, posture rigid.

"I just want you to let you know that it's okay."

The sincerity drips from her mouth like honey from a honeycomb and Gary feels ashamed for acting the way he did. Embarrassed, his face flushes with a patchy pink running from his neck to his cheek.

Gary puts his hands to his head, shaking his auburn hair as he closes his eyes out of frustration.

"It's okay—" Gary pauses, dragging his hands over his eyes and plunging his fingers deep into the sockets. "But it also isn't okay at all."

"Gary—"

"I'm just embarrassed, okay?"

His confidence. Gary was missing his confidence.

Misty frowns, raising an eyebrow in askance. "Over what exactly?"

Strangely, he scrambles for the right words.

"I—I freaking bled and borderline fainted and—kind of just want to go lie in a hole," he tells her, voice strange.

Her hand looks like it wants to reach out to him but it just stays slightly hung in the air. "So, it's about the piercing? Gary, it happens, please don't feel embarrassed about that."

His jaw falls open as a tight feeling in his chest constricts because she doesn't see that it's more than that.

"You having to fret over me wasn't ideal." It was a step closer to honest.

Misty tilts her head to the side, wearing an almost smile. "Oh, come on," she states frankly, stretching her hand to his forearm, "I'm your friend. Of course, I'm going to care and be there. Blood doesn't bother me."

"But it's you, I don't want to—" His heartbeat pounds in his ears, chest growing tighter.

"Want to what?" Misty continues to hold his arm, the golden hour kissing her face as she stares up at him.

"Look like such a fool in front of you."

She blinks. "—It wouldn't be the first time I thought you were a fool, Gary."

_Friend_ and _fool_ falling from her lips cause something within to crack.

"But I don't want you to worry about that, you can be always yourself around me."

And then a warmth washes over him as he listens to her. To be understood, to be able to be himself around someone. That's all he could ever ask for. The selfish part of him, closeted and hungry, wants it to be Misty.

"…I think I couldn't even hide from you even if I tried," he tells her, earnest yet slightly uneasy. "You've always been able to see through me."

His voice trails off softly and then he looks off to the sea, not quite looking at her. "…For the most part."

"The most part—" She purses her mouth thoughtfully, spitfire and curiosity beginning to seep out of her. "What's that supposed to mean, Oak?"

The way she spouts his name with a sharp edge. Her gaze flickering over his face, searching for some sort of truth.

Gary takes a deep, uneasy breath, and fights for his confidence to settle back into his voice and bones. If he was going to do this, along with her by the sea, he was going to do it right.

He may fear the sight of blood. He may fear the sight of her turning away from him and never looking back. But the idea of them, trailing along throughout life, with him holding his feelings back as she walks on outweighs all of that. Gary, in the end, is not a coward.

"It means that you didn't notice how I had a crush on you. That it started with you like that new weird girl who went out of her way to befriend Ash Ketchum—then my dumbass started paying attention to the things you said and the things you did and— _you_. I mean, you didn't make any sense to me."

She blinks. He goes on, shakily pouring his internal feelings out like wine from a chalice.

"Then—"

"Gary—"

"Then we became friends." He cuts her off abruptly, managing to keep his voice strong. "Misty, you became something more than that strange crush from afar. There I was thinking I only liked you because I didn't _know_ much about you to dislike you but when I got to know you, it all went to shit because you were more than just a crush. And—" Gary breathes in sharply through his nostrils, "I started to like you. Really, really like you. You mean so much to me, in ways I think you don't even know. And now I'm telling you like this and my stupid ear is going to start bleeding again and you don't have to say anything, but you know what? I'm not sorry for any of it—"

He falls to silence from her painted fingertips pressing to his lips. All was quiet but the rapid beat of his heart pulsing in his chest at the rare sight of her. Flushing cheeks a burning rose tint, hair windblown and disheveled, and it takes what little breath Gary had left away.

Expression somewhat nervous, Misty's eyes darted between him and the wooden panels beneath their feet.

"You—" she starts, voice low and chipped, "you can stop now."

The warmth leaves his mouth as she brings her hands to her side.

"Yeah," he says with a nod, sounding somewhat out of place with himself. "Yeah, okay. I'll stop."

Silence follows, and Gary drinks her in. Misty looks to be physically processing his words, his confession. She bites her lips and settles her chest causing his world to spin to a halt.

Mixed emotions hit him like a cocktail—uncertainty, a dash of hope and the subtle need to hold her burning cheek in the palm of his hand. The instinct to close the space between them surfacing. Memories of a younger him labeling the _thing_ he had with Misty as a fleeting crush, but Gary knew it was a sweet sickness that grew stronger with every inch his body gained. Some days the crush was weak. A small moment of Gary across the cafeteria, holding his past girlfriend's hand, watching as Misty laughed hard into her water bottle at Ash's joke. Quickly, he would coolly turn his attention back to his girlfriend. Other days and nights, the crush ate away at his thoughts. Overthinking about the way Misty frowned at a comment he made about Giselle Van Buren or what her text about going to the party together (well, as a group) really meant. Nights of him squeezing his poor pillow with a little too much force as he borderline obsessed over how she went out of her way to create a music playlist for him called _Ode to Gerry Cedar_.

Years of endearment, beginning as strangers to unlikely friends, came to this moment. He pictured the confession involving candlelight and flowers her favorite shade of yellow but all he had was a numb ear and a sad puddle of word vomit. Fortunately, he feels no regret. Yet.

She finally looks up at him, almost shyly. "…For how long?"

"Since we were twelve," he replies with the utmost conviction.

Misty's face widens with electric shock, making a sound of surprise with an open mouth.

"You've kept this to yourself all this time, say all of that and then expect me not to say _anything_?" She asks, her voice raw and exuding disbelief.

Misty takes a strong step forward, the top of her head at the level of his chin, and she looks like she wants to punch him in the gut with the way her fist is bawled up.

"Um—"

Another step.

"You idiot—" she exhales the insult, dilated eyes narrowing sharply. "I cannot believe you."

Gary doesn't dare take another step back, despite his reeling head shouting at him to run, but he can't escape. Not when she is so lovely, full of pure fire, and so _very_ close.

"Hey! I'm not an idiot—"

"Gary," she breathes out his name, lips parted, cupping his jaw with both of her hands. "Yes, you are."

In an impulse, Misty's strawberry lips press against Gary's tenderly as she cradles his face between her hands. His gasps out an unexpected sound as his eyes flutter shut, pressing into her closer. The kiss, tender and warm, bring Gary's knees to buckle slightly as she pulls away in an unsteady motion.

Misty rocks back, her hand bawling up her shirt as she fixes her entire attention on him with those ocean eyes. Like she is waiting for him to say something, to do something.

Gary almost falls forward from how weak he feels and shifts, bringing his hand to his mouth in disbelief. Licking the slight taste of salt and cinnamon from his bottom lip, Gary gawks at the sight of her, committing it and that _kiss_ to his memory. A little awkward, short-lived but perfect.

"…..Gary?"

He stands silent carrying a full heart and dazed mind.

Misty broke him.

"Gary Oak!"

He snaps back to reality. Utterly enthralled, a silly grin spreads across his face. "…Man, you're something," he drawls, his voice entirely genuine.

Her cheeks darken in color, just a bit at his words. Misty rolls her eyes, a small grin spreading across her golden face. "So…um," she starts, tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear. A nervous habit. "Aren't you going to ask me why I kissed you?"

Gary tilts his head. "I'd rather ask you why'd you stopped," he admits shamelessly.

"First of all, shut up," Misty pokes her finger in his chest, peering up at him. "Second, don't you want to know why I wanted to hang out with you today?"

"….To see me get my nipples pierced?"

She shakes with laughter. "Yes—but it's because I wanted to spend time with you, just _us_ ," Misty admits softly, slipping her hand into his. "It's kind of, weird to say this out loud but I feel like myself with you. Yet at the same time, not myself? Like you bring out this other side to me I don't know even know yet."

Gary clenches her hand in his, on the verge of becoming an utter mess from hearing something so close to what he's been hoping for.

"And it's scary—because we're friends and I never really thought you looked at me like that but at the same time, maybe I've always known? I really don't even know what to say anymore because you keep looking at me like _that_."

"Like what?" he questions knowingly, adoration riddled on his tongue.

"Like I'm an alien."

"The most beautiful alien in the universe."

Gary, high off words and sea salt, wraps his arms around her and pulls her against his beating chest. He still doesn't know what she truly feels or if this is just a lapse in the story of their lives, but he didn't find it within himself to care. All that matters is that she is here and he is so close to falling in love with her he could see it.

"I feel the same," he whispers into her ear. "Like I'm myself with you."

Misty's arms tighten. "You can be. I like who you are, Gary."

Voice cracking, a shallow breath leaving his chest as he can barely believe she said something so beautiful to him. Her, beautiful and witty, telling him that she likes who he is.

They pull apart, hands still attached.

Gary's free hand grazes the high of Misty's cheeks and she shudders at the contact. "Misty, I really want to kiss you again."

She blushes at the tone of his voice, eyes narrowing.

"It can wait," she tells him, putting her hand over his as she leans into his touch. "I have to say—thank you for caring about me, Gary. And I don't know if I feel the same as you or as strongly as you but—"

He dips her head, pressing his lips against hers with a sincere smile.

He pulls apart—leaving her breathless.

"Let's just try," he tells her. "I don't need a label or you to feel the same right away but I want you. I want more days like today. I just want you, Misty."

He pauses, taking a moment to reflect. "But only if you want to."

Misty's face blossoms into something close to breathtaking. And Gary cannot fathom that it's because of him.

"I want to," she confirms. " _I want to_."

Swallowing her words, Gary takes her hand in his and squeezes it. An overwhelming sense of joy crowds his chest, bringing him to reality.

"Then let's go," he manages, and together, they take their first new step.

.

.

.

**Author's Note:**

> what did you think? i combined parts of my hometown and my love for misty and gary into a strange day in the life story of the first time gary poured his heart out. thank you for reading and dealing with my nonsense. i appreciate every one of you. please, share your thoughts! xoxoxoxo


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